Now it was all up with Eckbert's consciousness and his senses; he could not solve the mystery whether he was now dreaming or had formerly dreamt of a woman Bertha. The most marvelous was confused with the most ordinary--the world around him was bewitched--no thought, no memory was under his control. An old crook-backed woman with a cane came creeping up the hill, coughing. "Are you bringing my bird, my pearls, my dog?" she cried out to him. "Look--wrong punishes itself. I and no other was your friend Walther, your Hugo." "God in Heaven!" said Eckbert softly to himself. "In what terrible solitude I have spent my life." "And Bertha was your sister." Eckbert fell to the ground. "Why did she desert me so deceitfully? Otherwise everything would have ended beautifully--her probation-time was already over. She was the daughter of a knight, who had a shepherd bring her up--the daughter of your father." "Why have I always had a presentiment of these facts?" cried Eckbert. "Because in your early youth you heard your father tell of them. On his wife's account he could not bring up this daughter himself, for she was the child of another woman." Eckbert was delirious as he breathed his last; dazed and confused he heard the old woman talking, the dog barking, and the bird repeating its song. THE ELVES[37] (1811) By LUDWIG TIECK TRANSLATED BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE "Where is our little Mary?" asked the father. "She is playing out upon the green there, with our neighbor's boy," replied the mother. "I wish they may not run away and lose themselves," said he; "they are so heedless." The mother looked for the little ones, and brought them their evening luncheon. "It is warm," said the boy; and Mary eagerly reached out for the red cherries. "Have a care, children," said the mother, "and do not run too far from home, or into the wood; father and I are going to the fields." Little Andrew answered: "Never fear, the wood frightens us; we shall sit here by the house, where there are people near us." The mother went in, and soon came out again with her husband. They locked the door, and turned toward the fields to look after their laborers and see their hay-harvest in the meadow. Their house lay upon a little green height, encircled by a pretty ring of paling, which likewise inclosed their fruit and flower-garden. The hamlet stretched somewhat deeper down, and on the other side lay the castle of the Count. Martin rented the large farm from this nobleman, and was living in contentment with his wife and only child; for he yearly saved some money, and had the prospect of becoming a man of substance by his industry, for the ground was productive, and the Count not illiberal.